An Unbirthday Celebration
by luvscharlie
Summary: George agrees to take Rose and Hugo for the day, so Ron can do something special for Hermione's birthday. When will Ron learn not to trust a Weasley twin? Ron/Hermione


_An Un-birthday Celebration_

* * *

_"A simple enough pleasure, surely, to have breakfast alone with one's husband, but how seldom married people in the midst of life achieve it." _—Anne Spencer Morrow Lindbergh

* * *

Hermione awoke to the sun shining through her bedroom window much brighter than usual. One did not get a lot of sleep with a toddler and a baby in the house, but this morning the house was uncharacteristically quiet. She reached over to find her husband missing from the bed. She pulled the covers up a little tighter around her and snuggled back down into her pillow.

She closed her eyes and heard the sound of breaking glass outside her bedroom door followed by Ron's low grumble of choice words. She heard the door open and shut her eyes again, not yet ready to give up the warmth of the bed. However, Ron did not attempt to rouse her from the bed, instead joining her as the bed dipped down beneath his weight. She felt her husband's arms slide around her waist and he pulled her back tightly against his chest. His hair was still wet from the shower and he smelled like a mixture of the soap she loved so much and something else that she could not quite place...was that syrup?

He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed a spot behind her ear. She couldn't contain the breathy little gasp that escaped her lips. He kissed her again, but this time he let his lips linger as his tongue traced circles on the sensitive skin. He kissed his way down her neck, and began to suck in earnest at the juncture where her neck and shoulder met.

She feigned sleep, but knew Ron could tell she was not sleeping by the many little gasps and sighs his kisses were eliciting from her throat. He chuckled against her skin when one particular kiss on her neck made her moan loudly. "Awake, are you?"

"Mm-hm," she said, "but don't stop."

"I-hadn't-planned-on-it," he said, as he punctuated each word with another kiss against her neck or ear. "In fact, I plan on keeping you in this bed a lot today." He nuzzled her neck and slid his hand beneath the hem of his old Quidditch jersey, her favorite thing to sleep in, tracing his fingertips across her stomach.

"The flat is really quiet. Where are the children, Ron?"

He squeezed her breasts together and pinched both nipples at once making her gasp loudly. "They're not here," he answered in an offhanded manner. "I have something for you, baby."

"Mmm, I see that," she whispered in his ear, grinding against his erection and kissing a trail down the side of his jaw, across his chin and over to his other ear. He was clad only in a pair of thin shorts and he pressed his erection against her thigh as the tips of her fingers stroked down his length.

"Merlin, Hermione. Do that again." His eyes closed and there was a look of bliss on his face as she snaked a hand between them to rub him through his shorts. "Gods, yes."

"So is _this_ what you have for me, Ronald?" her fingers stroked up his length more firmly eliciting a loud groan from him.

"If I say there's something else, are you gonna stop?" Ron whined.

"It depends on what it is."

"I made you breakfast."

"You did? Seriously? You made me breakfast?" she asked pulling away from him.

"I knew you were gonna stop if I told you." Ron said in a pouty voice, using his wand to summon a tray from the hallway.

The contents of the tray were quite a sight. The bacon was black and charred, the eggs were runny and the pancakes were drenched in syrup, but at least they appeared edible.

Ron wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. "Happy Birthday, love."

"Birthday? My birthday is next week."

"Huh? No, it can't be. I checked the calendar."

"The calendar George gave you?"

"Yep, it's right here—and blimey, I'm a fuckin' idiot. How does he manage to get me every time? I should have known something was up when he volunteered to take the kids. He even said he'd keep them overnight. I should have suspected something was up, but I was just so—Fuck him!"

"You were just so what, Ron? You were going to say something else."

She watched a myriad of emotions cross Ron's face before he spoke again. "I was just so ready to spend the day with you alone. We don't get to do that much anymore, do we?"

"No, we don't." She put her head on his shoulder.

"Are you sore with me, Hermione?" He sounded like a pouting child when he asked the question.

"No, I'm not angry with you. What do you say we make that brother of yours pay for his little joke?"

"How?" he asked in the pouting voice.

"We follow George's plans, of course. George volunteered to watch the kids for the day and night so we could celebrate my birthday, right?"

"Yeah."

"So I say we let him. With Rosie potty-training and Hugo teething, I'd say the joke is on George."

The sulky look retreated from his face and it was replaced by a devilish smile. "You know back in school when I said you were brilliant, but scary?"

"Yes," she said, eyes narrowing at the analogy.

"You only get scarier and more brilliant with age, love."

"I think that was a compliment."

"Oh, it was. And after I put a ward on the doors and the fireplace to keep everyone out, I'll show you just how sexy I find brilliantly scary witches."

"I think I like the sound of that."

Ron kissed her quickly on the mouth and strode from the room with a new spring in his step, picking up his wand from the bedside table. Hermione sat the tray of food aside, smiling at the hard work he had obviously put into it. There was even a rose laying on the tray, and she could only assume its vase had been the victim of the earlier crash in the hallway.

The pancake syrup gave her an idea, and she quickly stripped off his old Quidditch jersey, and gave a disgusted groan at the undergarments she was wearing, which could be described as anything but sexy. She cast a quick locking spell on the door and rummaged through her lingerie drawer looking for one of the sets she liked best, chiding herself for not buying any new sexy undergarments in a right good bit. She quickly pulled on a pair of red lace knickers and a matching bra which she had bought before becoming pregnant with Hugo. Her breasts had become quite a bit larger with her last pregnancy, much to Ron's delight, and the bra now barely covered her nipples and her breasts spilled over the top.

The doorknob turned, but the locking spell did not give way to her husband's attempts at entry.

"Hermione, what's going on? Let me in."

"Just a second."

She heard a pronounced sigh from the other side of the door and knew his patience wouldn't last long before he was once more attempting to unlock the door himself. In haste, she climbed onto the bed and used her wand to take the syrup from the pancakes and drip it across both breasts, down between them and trailing it down to pool in her navel just above the waistband of her knickers. She had just finished and put her wand away when Ron broke the spell on the door and gained access to the room.

"What the bloody hell was that-- all—about?" As his words slowed, his mouth fell open and his eyes widened. She was lying in a seductive pose, _or at least she hoped it looked seductive, rather than ridiculous_ with her legs spread open so that he could just see the chestnut brown curls of her sex. Her hair, which she had thankfully had time to run a brush through, was spread upon the pillow fanned out beneath her, as she dipped her finger into her navel and brought the sticky substance to her lips.

"I thought you might want to share my birthday breakfast."

Ron stood halfway between the door and the bed, mouth agape. "Um—Er—Fuck, why am I still standing here?"

"I was wondering that myself. You know," she said pursing her lips in a pout which she knew drove him wild, "_my_ tongue won't reach here." She ran her finger down beside the syrup trailing between her breasts.

"I think I can assist you with that."

"Would you be so kind?"

He pinned her upper arms to the bed in response, as his tongue dipped into her bra, working its way down her stomach to the pool of syrup that had settled in her navel. He licked it clean with slow sensual strokes of his tongue, then summoned the plate and placed it beside her hip.

"Ron, what are you doing with that?" she asked raising an eyebrow in question.

"Eating it," he said, ripping off her knickers and splaying her thighs open beneath him. He dipped two fingers into the syrup and began to coat the lips of her cunt in sticky sweetness. His fingers worked their way into her folds spreading the syrup until she was completely coated.

"Ew, that feels disgusting," she whined as the thick, sticky mess gathered between her legs.

"So you don't like it?"

"No, not at all." His tongue worked its way between her folds, lapping up the syrup. "Oh, well maybe a little," she whispered at the feel of his tongue on her. She moved her hips in rhythm with the swirling of his tongue, moaning loudly. When there was no syrup left, he lay down beside her.

"Why did you stop?"

Ron cocked an eyebrow at her, "Thought you said you didn't like it. I believe your words were 'not at all'."

"But—Um-- Well, it felt strange at first—"

"And then?"

"It got a lot better, you smarmy git," she said, glaring at the smirk on his face. _Let's see how he likes it._ "My turn to have a go, I suppose," said Hermione.

"A go at what, love?"

"Eating breakfast," she said reaching a hand into the plate and dipping her fingers into the syrup as her other hand tugged his shorts down freeing his hard cock. She coated the length of his shaft with the syrup and began to slowly lick it off. She cleaned him of every sticky drop, sucking him into her mouth as the underside of her tongue licked circles over the head of his cock and her hand cupped his balls, squeezing lightly to elicit groans from deep within his throat.

She shifted, straddling his body so that his face was clamped between her thighs and he could tease her clit with his tongue while she continued to suck and stroke him. This was one of Ron's favourite positions, and he groaned his approval at her choice, as he raised his head and sucked the little bundle of nerves at her core into his mouth. She whimpered as his tongue manipulated it expertly, knowing exactly the amount of pressure to apply.

"Ron. Yes, right there." His thumb pushed firmly against her clit, as his tongue licked again over the area that had garnered the excited response. Hermione reciprocated by fisting his cock and licking the sensitive tip of his cock, then pressing her lips around his shaft as he thrust into her mouth.

She released his cock from her mouth with a loud pop, as her body trembled above him and she gripped at the sheets moaning in ecstasy as she rode out the waves of pleasure that coursed through her body. When her orgasm finally subsided, she crawled up his body and kissed him, tasting herself on his lips mingled with the syrup.

"Tell me what you want, Ron."

There was no hesitation in his response. "I wanna fuck those brilliant tits of yours, baby." He flipped her to her back, grabbed the nearest wand and cast a lubricating charm between her breasts, using her hands to push them together as he thrust between them. "Merlin, I love your tits," he moaned pinching her nipples into hard points, each in turn, and spilling onto her chest.

"Come take a shower with me, Hermione." She allowed him to take her hand and lead her from the bedroom to the shower, where he pushed her under the spray, attacking her neck with his lips and wrapping her tightly in his arms.

"I love you, Ron."

"Me too."

* * *

She pulled on a silky dressing gown. It was one she only wore in front of him, since the hem just reached her upper thigh. As she was wearing nothing beneath it, there was little left to the imagination. It made her feel sexy. Whenever she wore it, Ron's eyes would follow her as she went from room to room in their flat. Come to think of it, she could not recall a time when she had worn this particular dressing gown when it had not ultimately ended in fabulous sex with her husband. _She really should wear this more often._

She removed the linens from their bed, getting rid of all of the sticky syrup, and replacing them with soft, clean sheets. She replaced their normal candles with some that were scented for later in the evening, and went in search of her husband, who was somewhere in the flat.

Ron was in his favourite chair watching the telly which they only acquired in recent weeks. After a visit to her parents' house, Ron had declared that they simply must have one. He was enchanted by the Muggle device and had learned a complicated spell in order to get it to work in their home without the benefit of electricity. He loved it, conceding that there were some things Muggles used that were just fun. She laughed at Ron's attire. Apparently, they were both taking advantage of it being only the two of them present in the house, as Ron was clad only in his shorts. She climbed onto his lap, ran her hands over his chest, and wound them around his neck.

"Room clean?" he asked, rubbing circles on her back as she rested her head against his shoulder and snuggled into the warm skin of his neck, breathing in the smell of his still shower-damp hair.

"Um-hm." She licked the shell of his ear when she felt his hand caress the curve of her bottom. "Love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he said, as his hand fumbled around beneath her distractedly. This time, however, it could not be mistaken for a caress.

"Ron, what are you doing?"

"I think you're sitting on the clicky thing. Yep, there it is," he said, holding up the remote control and pointing it at the telly and clicking the buttons. Nothing happened. His brow furrowed as he pointed it and clicked again and again trying to get the channel to change. "Hermione, I think you broke it."

"You just don't know how to use it right," she retorted.

"I do too. I just put new batteries in it and everything."

"Ron, I don't understand why this needs batteries. Can't you put a spell on it like you did the telly?"

"No, there's not a spell for clicky things like there is for electricity. I checked the books and there was no spell for clicky things anywhere in them."

"Did you look up a spell for remote controls?"

He shot her a thoroughly annoyed look. "Why would I look up a spell for remote controls when I'm looking for one for clicky things?"

"Well, because—never mind. No reason." she said, attempting to remove the remote from his hand unsuccessfully, and distract him by nuzzling his neck with her nose.

"It worked yesterday," he whined.

He was clearly determined to figure out what was wrong. Hermione sighed in disgust and climbed out of his lap, starting towards the sofa.

"Wait," he said. _Perhaps he wants to play some more after all._

He flipped the remote over in his hand and popped off the back. "He did it again." He held the remote out to show her that the batteries were missing. "Dad was by yesterday, was he?"

"Um-hm," she answered, scowling at him as she retrieved a book from the shelf and lay down on the sofa to read, the dressing gown riding up to expose even more of her bare skin. She glared at his back when Ron went in search of more batteries.

"Bloody hell, those were the last ones." She heard his voice from the other room as he rummaged through drawers. _What a shame, you prat._

"Hermione, what do you want to watch?" Ron asked, standing at the telly and manually changing the channels.

"Nothing," she grumbled, never raising her eyes from her book. She was surprised when she heard the sound of the telly clicking off and felt his eyes boring into her. "You're watching me."

"I am," he confirmed.

"Stop it."

"Sorry, love. Can't. Nothing else to watch."

She glared at him.

"That didn't exactly come out the way I meant it."

She glared at him once more and turned back to her book.

"Hermione, put the book down."

"No, Ronald. I'm reading it."

"You're pouting. I said put the book down."

"I am not deaf. I heard you the first time, and I am not pouting."

"Do it."

"Why should I?"

"Because I said so."

"And since when do I do things just because you say so?" she asked, angry he would even suggest such a thing. It was then she noticed that his eyes were dark and he was staring at the spot where the tie on her dressing gown had come loose and fallen open exposing her bare stomach and the nipple of one breast.

"Since now."

"Hm," she scoffed and went back to her book feeling moisture begin to pool between her legs at the way he was staring at her and the commanding tone of his voice. She was looking at the pages of the book, but she was not actually reading the words. She was too busy anticipating what he might do next as her excitement grew.

She heard him groan from across the room. Curiosity got the better of her, and she quickly glanced his way. What she saw made her heart beat in double-time. His back was against the wall, his eyes were closed and his hand was inside his shorts as he stroked himself.

"Now who's watching who?" Ron asked, opening one eye and cocking an eyebrow at her.

A blush spread across her cheeks at being caught staring at him, and she defiantly looked back down at her book. He was across the room in two strides jerking the book from beneath her nose and tossing it across the room. "Bloody stubborn bird."

"Just what do you think--"

"Untie your gown."

"What?"

"Loosen the tie on your gown and open it. I want to watch you."

She pulled the tie of the gown loose allowing it to part and slide off with only the slightest tug from her husband. Ron stood above her, devouring her with his eyes but refraining from touching her. He slipped out of his shorts and continued to stroke himself. He only touched her legs to encourage her to bend her knees and give him a better view of her cunt. He sat down on the sofa at her feet and touched her knees to encourage her to let them fall open. He took her hand in his, kissed her palm then pressed her fingers between her legs.

"Show me," he whispered encouraging her to let him watch her explore her folds as she stroked herself. She heard him groan as she worked her fingers into the folds slick with her desire.

"So fuckin' sexy," he said, as the pad of his thumb brushed once lightly across her wetness making her shiver.

"_Engorgio_," he whispered, and she felt the sofa beneath her grow. He lay beside her, his breath hot in her ear. "Tell me what it feels like, 'Mione," he whispered.

"You know what it feels like," she said as his hardness pressed into her thigh, his hand keeping a steady rhythm as he wanked.

"I wanna hear you say it. I wanna hear you tell me."

She turned her head just enough to see him. He loved it when she talked dirty to him. "You do?" she whispered, rolling to press her body against his wrapping her thighs around one of his so that he could feel her hand as it worked her clit.

"Fuck, yes." Ron's hand increased in speed.

"You want me to tell you how wet I am for you?" she whispered, watching the muscles in his neck pulsate as he swallowed hard and nodded.

"So wet I'm dripping," she said, breathing her words into his ear and against his skin.

"Tell me more, Hermione."

"What else do you want to know, my love?" She whispered in his ear, biting at the lobe then dipping her tongue inside. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. Like how I love having you buried deep inside of me when you come; or how I'm never more turned on than when you slide your hand beneath my robe underneath your parents' kitchen table when everyone's around and tease me until I feel as though I'll die if I don't have you right then. I will whisper the most wonderfully naughty things in your ear, tell you how desperate I am to have you fuck me with your big, hard cock--"

"Merlin, Hermione," he said rolling her beneath him and entering her with one hard, deep thrust.

"Gods Ron, I'm coming already," she said, as she continued to work her fingers furiously over her clit.

"Me too, baby," he moaned as he drove into her hard and fast, biting down lightly on her shoulder as he came. "Fuck, that was brilliant."

She snuggled into the crook of his arm. "Better than watching the telly?" she asked sarcastically.

"Better than going to the Quidditch World Cup for a game when the Cannons actually win."

She raised herself up on her elbows giving him a skeptical look. "Really?"

"If you slipped Veritaserum in my tea, you'd still get the same answer," he said. "Absolutely brilliant."

"That's quite a compliment."

"Yeah, well that was quite a shag, love. You know how much I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"You know," she said, "Muggles sometimes use telephones to call each other and talk just like that over the telephone."

Ron's eyes widened at the possibility. "Dad may be right about Muggles. They do have some brilliant things. We're getting some of those telephones tomorrow. You know that, right?"

"What if I don't want one?" she teased.

"Then I'll have to find some Muggle girl to call, who'll use her sexiest voice to whisper all that naughty stuff in my ear."

She glared at his poor attempt at humour and tried to rise from the couch.

"Hermione, come here," he said pulling her back. "I'm only playing…mostly." The corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin.

"Ron."

"Hm?"

"Unless you plan to start whispering in my ear, stop talking and kiss me."

He licked his lips and took her hand, kissing a trail up her arm and sucked on her neck. He bit her earlobe and whispered softly in her ear, "Do you know what having your voice in my ear would do to me while I'm at work? I'd be dragging you down there for lunch daily so I could shag you over my desk."

"Um," she purred, "I do like the sound of that." She captured his mouth in a breathtaking kiss.

* * *

They lay snuggled together in their bed after making love late that night. The candles around them burned, emitting an intoxicating aroma, and the firelight reflected the sheen on their entwined bodies.

"Will you do something for me?" she asked placing a kiss on his chest.

"I'm not sure I can," he responded.

"Tired, are you?"

"A bit," he admitted, breathing hard.

"It's nothing you have to do right away."

"Then there's a better chance in your getting it. What do you want, love?"

"Another un-birthday celebration next year. They're so much nicer than birthdays."

He chuckled, "Why wait until next year? That's the thing about un-birthdays, you know, they come around so much more often than birthdays."

"That is the very best part," she said.

"Agreed."

Fin

_"There are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presents…and only one for birthday presents, you know."_ – Lewis Carroll


End file.
